Five years into our "DINK" (Double Income, No Kids) lifestyle, my boyfriend started testing my limits. It started with a brochure for a luxury postnatal care center that mysteriously appeared in our house. It boasted "Top-Tier Postpartum Recovery" and guaranteed a return to pre-pregnancy form. My boyfriend, David, explained, "Oh, that's from my buddy Will's new business. He handed them out to everyone at the reunion." "His wife just had a baby and is staying there. We should go visit sometime; their kid is adorable." Mmhmm. A perfectly reasonable explanation. Almost flawless. But I wasn't stupid. That very day, I broke up with him. And froze all his credit cards. 1 I found the brochure tucked inside a thriller novel. "Top-Tier Postpartum Recovery." It promised to restore a woman's figure to perfection, maybe even better than before. I am staunchly child-free. Logically, I am not the target audience for this ad. Its appearance in my life was no accident. Someone planted it. I picked up the novel, lost in thought. David gave me this book this morning. He claimed it was the most gripping thriller he'd ever read and swore I'd love it. I am a huge thriller fan, so I took his recommendation. Which meant the brochure was placed there deliberately by David. This wasn't the first baby-related "coincidence" lately. Parenting videos popping up in my feed titled "Child-free Couple Finally Decides to Have a Baby." David's friends casually asking about our family plans. Even our date last week was at a theme park famous for being kid-friendly. All signs pointed to one conclusion: David, who once vowed to be child-free with me, wanted a baby. I decided to confront him. 2 David came home in the evening. It was pouring rain outside, but instead of changing his wet clothes, he went straight to the bathroom to prepare a foot soak for me, then to the kitchen to brew my favorite herbal tea. A perfect boyfriend, by anyone's standards. As he placed the foot basin in front of me, I slid the brochure across the table towards him. Years of understanding meant he got the message instantly. He started explaining, "It's for Will's center. You remember Will, right? My dorm neighbor in college." "He handed one to everyone at the reunion. I didn't think much of it and used it as a bookmark in that new novel. I forgot to take it out." David laughed, pulling the brochure out and tossing it aside. "Will always loves to brag. Postpartum recovery is tough, but he makes it sound so easy." "But his center seems legit. His own wife is staying there! We should visit them sometime. Will showed me photos of his kid; he's so cute!" David rambled on about Will's happy family of three, a longing look in his eyes he probably didn't even notice. I interrupted him. "David, are you doing all this to tell me that after five years, you want a child?" David's expression shifted, then quickly returned to normal. He hugged me gently. "Peach, what are you thinking? I promised to be child-free with you." "Having you is enough. Kids don't matter. If you don't like me talking about this, I won't mention it again." David was handsome, with charming eyes. His sweet words might work on younger girls. But I'm 30. I've seen it all. I pushed him away, showing him the inexplicable baby content on my phone. Then I opened the link he sent me days ago for "date ideas"—all family-friendly resorts. "David, I'm not stupid." "People change. You want a child now. I don't blame you." "So let's end this amicably." David's face turned ugly. "Peach, you're breaking up with me?" I nodded and turned to pack. "I have a business trip tomorrow for a week. Use that time to pack your things and move out." David kept rambling. "Peach, I promise, I don't mean to pressure you. I respect your choices; that's why I've stayed by your side all these years. The evidence you found is all just coincidence..." I ignored him. The doorbell rang. My driver and bodyguard were waiting. David tried to grab my arm but was blocked by the bodyguard's imposing frame. His voice faded away outside the car window. 3 I met David when I was 25. At 25, I had finally solidified my position within the family business, officially becoming the head of Sterling Corp. That same year, I visited my alma mater and met David, who was five years younger than me and just starting his research. My mentor introduced him enthusiastically. "This is David. Only a sophomore and already working on projects with me. Bright future ahead!" David had a clean, handsome look, with upturned eyes that gave him a slightly enchanting allure. He blushed as he greeted me. "Hi, senior." I looked him over. My type. Before David, I had dated the poor but upright scholar, the adrenaline junkie, and the refined rich kid. I hadn't tried the "David" type yet. I started pursuing him. Nothing too overt—just dropping by the lab to offer guidance, helping him out when he was bullied by peers, and securing him an internship at a top firm... David confessed his feelings quickly. I accepted. Honestly, I just wanted to have some fun. I assumed he was like the others—after my money or power. Like the poor scholar who, three months in, started asking when we could get married. I found his search history full of "how to marry rich." Or the rich kid, whom my security cameras caught poking holes in all the condoms in my nightstand. His family was on the verge of bankruptcy and needed a cash injection. Binding me with a child was a smart move. But David seemed different. He loved me. Or at least, he acted like he did. I was honest with every partner about being child-free. Most were shocked, as if no matter how high I climbed, my duty as a woman was still to reproduce. David wasn't. He just held me, his voice low and gentle. "Peach, I don't know much about childbirth. Maybe I should try to understand your decision first." He didn't just talk. He took notes on the child-free lifestyle. He even tried a labor pain simulator. Then he said, "Peach, I understand now." "Just the physical pain alone... I couldn't bear to let you go through that." 4 Three years in, David became my longest relationship. I took him to visit my parents' graves. When I was 18, my parents died in a car accident. I knew it was my mother's doing. Since I was born, she had been slowly pushed out of power. The company changed names, my father cheated, everything changed. I learned this from her diary. The turning point was having a child. She found herself excluded from the core circle, with everyone deferring to my father. Worse was the toll on her body. Already weak from years of hard work, childbirth drained her. Her energy and memory faded, making her struggle with work. My father, the man who married into her family, seized the opportunity. Her last words to me were: "Peach, I've handled everything. The company is yours. But the road ahead, you must walk alone." Her story shaped me. I have her blood and her ambition. I refuse to follow in her footsteps. Besides, the situation isn't stable. Relatives on my father's side, from his brother to distant cousins, are all eyeing my position. I have to fight to keep my throne. I can't relax. David was the first man to hear this story. For three years, he was perfect. Not demanding, emotionally supportive, respecting my decisions. Sometimes, I allowed myself to fall for it. I told him, "David, do you understand? I can't have kids. It's never enough. I can't stop. I have to climb." He held my hand. "Then I'll be the one watching you climb."
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